Chocolate
by Forsaken Paradise
Summary: "Life is like chocolate. Too dark and it becomes bitter enough to hurt your mouth, too light and it becomes too sweet to eat." "I thought you hated chocolate?" "I do." OCX?, NO Shizaya. T for violence, language, and turtles.
1. Chapter One: The Anomaly

**A/N**

**Grace: Hey, everybody! So, this is the first story I'm actually uploading on this account, mainly because I didn't need to make any major changes to the first chapter, and I had the second chapter nearly complete when I made my new account. Chapter three is also in the works, it should be out sometime soon-ish. Also, everybody say hi to my awesome-**

**Phantom: and underappreciated!**

**Grace: *blinks* yeah. My awesome and underappreciated Beta, PhantomPrussia.**

**Phantom: *bows dramatically***

**Grace: Yup. On with the chapter!~**

_**[DISCLAIMER: If I owned Durarara! it wouldn't be centered around a bunch of high school kids, especially since Izaya is so kickass – it should have centered around HIM *fangirl squeal*. Given that Durarara! is, in fact, centered around three high school kids, I obviously don't own it.]**_

**Chapter One: The Anomaly **

There was an anomaly on the streets of Ikebukuro that night. Not Shizuo Heiwajima throwing around a vending machine. Not someone falling from a building. Not even a kidnapping was occurring that night, which could have been considered an abnormality in and of itself. No, the disturbance amongst the colorless throngs of people was much more subtle, almost unnoticeable from a distance.

Her name was Ciara Deirdre-Lynn Kathleen O`Neill. She was very proud of her name, which was as long as her mother could make it; the woman had decided that her youngest child should have a special name, and she hadn't been able to decide on just a given and middle name. Everything about Ciara stood out, and not necessarily in a good way. Her fiery auburn hair was a tangled mess of curls that reached past her waist with long bangs that made her scowl slightly each time they brushed into her eyes. Despite her twenty-two years of life, she hadn't managed to get any taller than five foot one, which left her considerably shorter than the other people who strolled the streets at eleven PM. She had a round face spattered with freckles, which only added to her childish air; on a bad day she could easily be mistaken for a petulant eight-year-old. Though her appearance alone was odd enough compared to the relatively boring and repetitive features of the Ikebukuro residents, her choice of clothing was what really drew the oddest glances. She was clad in an over-sized green knitted sweater with unraveling sleeves that reached several inches past her fingers and a hem that fell nearly to her knees. The sweater nearly obscured her grass-stained and baggy jeans, tucked into mud caked and well-worn work boots.

She seemed completely oblivious to the disdainful looks cast her way, grey-green eyes instead focused on the neon lights and towering buildings. Ciara was born and raised in the small Irish town of Caher, her parents were farmers and she had five brothers. Needless to say the girl didn't spend much time worrying over her clothing choices when she was busy getting then muddy and tattered anyway.

Nearly hidden on the roof of a building sat the hunched form of Izaya Orihara. The small set of binoculars held to his face glinted slightly in the light of one of the glowing signs, casting a shadow over his face. He was staring intently at the red-haired girl, eyes narrowed and face twisted into a smirk. Yes, she was certainly different from the rest of his beloved humans, from her expressions to the way she walked, but what really caught Izaya's attention was her resemblance to someone he knew well; or rather _had _known.

With a chuckle Izaya pushed himself to his feet, slipping the binoculars into the pocket of his jacket as he turned away. Ikebukuro had been getting almost boring lately, and a plan was quickly forming in the man's head about how to spice things up.

**(A/N from the original**

**Grace: My first Durarara! story! This idea has been poking me for a while, and since I do so love OC in Ikebukuro stories, I had to contribute something. I suppose I should apologize for the rather bland and short opening, but I figured it was better to get the introduction out of the way sooner rather than later. I would also like to say that flames and accusations of Ciara being a Mary-Sue are not appreciated, it's not like I can have her go about being as boring and colorless as the regular people waltzing about, but I do appreciate comments and suggestions about ways to keep my OC from straying into Mary-Suedom. Also a thanks goes out to my awesome Beta, PhantomPrussia!**

**Phantom: *bows***

**Grace: *claps sarcastically* Ahem. The next chapter will be out as soon as possible to make up for the shortness of this one. Thanks for reading up to this point, and remember, reviews make an Author's life suck less!)**


	2. Chapter Two: Not A Morning Person

**A/N**

**Grace: Ta-da!~ Chapter two, at long last! Well, it hasn't actually been that long on **_**this **_**story, but on the original it's been forever. Hopefully the next update will be a bit sooner, especially if I'm encouraged by reviews (hint hint)!~**

**Phantom: Sure. Ignore the Beta. It's not like I work my **_**ass **_**off for your reviewers to give **_**you **_**all the love. . . *cries in corner***

**Grace: *sigh* There, there Phantom-chan, it'll be okay. People, give poor sad little Phantom-chan some attention too! If you do, you'll get a hug – and possibly stabbed in the back by – Izaya!~**

_**[DISCLAIMER: If I owned Durarara! there would be a few more female characters to provide XIzaya and XShizuo pairings other than ShizuoXIzaya. Given that Shizaya fics make up the majority of the fandom, I clearly do not own it.]**_

**Chapter Two: Not A Morning Person**

Fate has an interesting way of twisting our perceptions of the world, doesn't it? Years, even decades can be spent carefully planning out one's life, and suddenly it's all quite pointless.

Ciara never considered herself to be a planner. She was content with her life in a small, rural town. She liked being surrounded by her family. She liked her simple, predictable life. She liked to know what would happen tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. It made her feel safe, as though she didn't _need _to set plans and figure out what to do with her life. Honestly she had assumed that eventually a nice guy would come along – one that her brothers wouldn't try to maim – with a nice farm and a nice little dog or cat. They would fall in love, get married, and have lots of children. She would grow old and grey, spending her days watching her children frolic in the sunshine as she sat on the porch in her slightly creaky rocking chair knitting a sweater. And then fate happened.

Maureen Shannon O'Neill was Ciara's elder sister by two years. Maureen was a girl never happy with the way things were, always looking for adventure and excitement that couldn't be found in the small town of Cheboygan. That was why just after her sixteenth birthday, Maureen gathered up her money and belongings, and promptly moved away. For almost six years nothing was heard from Maureen, which devastated little Ciara, who had always been close to her sister. At some point or another the O'Neill family gave up hope, assuming that their darling Maureen had married some adventurer and she'd been whisked away to India, Mexico, or somewhere equally frightening and dangerous. Then they got a phone call.

Maureen had explained that she travelled around for a year before she finally settled down in Japan and finished high school. She said that she'd made a lot of friends and was very happy. She said that she loved her family, and promised to visit soon. She even remembered to wish Ciara a happy twentieth birthday.

For two years after that there was a call from Maureen every week without fail. She wrote letters and sent presents to Ciara, even took pictures of Ikebukuro - the city she'd finally settled down in. What the O'Neill family didn't know was that Ikebukuro could be a very dangerous place for people like Maureen, people who were never content to mind their own business, people who were always curious. There was never any doubt that Maureen was a very smart girl, but even smart girls can dig themselves a hole just a little too deep.

The O'Neill family received a call on a rather dreary Sunday morning from the Ikebukuro Police Department. Maureen Shannon O'Neill was found dead at four AM that morning with a single gunshot wound to her head. They deemed it a suicide, but the weapon was never found. Two days later Ciara was on a plane to Japan.

She didn't know what she was doing, not really. The beautiful simplicity of Ciara's life was shattered that dreary Sunday morning. Her Japanese was sketchy at best, but little Ciara was a very determined girl when she wanted to be. That was how she found herself staring at a plain brown door with green leaves carefully painted around the edges. A small smile tugged at her lips as she pulled a key from her worn brown rucksack and pushed the door open.

It wasn't a very large apartment. A main room with a kitchen and a single door that lead to the bedroom, but it was tastefully furnished and smelled distinctly of chocolate. Ciara took a deep breath of the scent, eyes closing nostalgically despite her face twisting into a scowl of distaste. She had a love of nearly all things sweet, the only exception being the one thing that her sister treasured most: chocolate. Maureen had once taken great joy in chasing Ciara around the farm and brandishing a half-eaten chocolate bar as though it were a sword; which it may as well have been given Ciara's aversion to the substance. There was no particular reason that she hated the stuff, no allergies to speak of, she simply _did_.

Shaking her head slightly, Ciara tossed her bag onto the nearest surface and ambled tiredly into the bedroom. It was furnished similarly to the rest of the apartment with a dresser pushed against one wall, a desk, nightstand, and a bed all clustered opposite the main door. Another door lead to a small closet and the third to a bathroom painted pastel-pink with flowery wallpaper that made Ciara's eyes burn painfully. For several long moments the girl stared at the bathroom as a child might stare at the sun, wondering what on _Earth _her sister had been thinking and why it made her eyes water.

When she finally pulled herself away from the atrocious room, Ciara managed to walk exactly three steps before she collapsed on the bed, nestled into the cream-colored sheets, and fell asleep.

**~D~R~R~R~**

Ciara Deirdre-Lynn Kathleen O`Neill was many things. Her cooking skills were said to be unrivaled, especially with any sort of sugary substance. She was a proud artist, always carrying a sketch book anywhere she went incase inspiration should strike. Though no one had considered her to be flamboyant and charismatic, per se, she did have a way with people that had gained her several friends back home. The girl also had a rather exceptional talent with animals, all but drawing any sort of four-legged beast to her. Yes, Ciara was many things.

But she was not a morning person.

Therefore, when a heavy pounding woke said-not-morning-person from a very peaceful sleep about puppies and a world without chocolate, she was rather disgruntled. Disgruntled would be putting it mildly, absolutely _furious _would be a tad more accurate.

"What the hell do you want?!" Ciara snarled as she yanked the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall.

Oblivious to her more-wrinkled-than-usual clothes and frighteningly matted hair, she glared at the two figures before her with rage-filled green-grey eyes. Both men looked rather startled, and the shorter of the two seemed to recover first. He was nearly a full foot taller than Ciara and wore a casual sort of suit. He peered at the odd looking girl from behind wire-framed glasses, disregarding the way she semi-snarled at him. Had it been a bit later in the day, Ciara would have been puzzled, for it was the first time she'd ever seen a man with dreadlocks wearing a suit. Instead, she was simply enraged that anyone had dared to wake her so early in the morning; she didn't realize that it was late afternoon in Ikebukuro, nor would she have cared.

"Maureen O'Neill?" the dreadlocks man questioned politely, raising an eyebrow as Ciara gnashed her teeth in frustration.

"My name is Ciara, Reeny was my sister. Now what the _hell_ do you want this early?!" the girl growled, hands raking at her tangled auburn hair.

"American?" the man questioned, head tilting slightly as he tried to identify her accent.

"Canadian," Ciara snapped "now will you answer my question so I can get back to sleep?!"

Had she been a touch more lucid, Ciara would have been horrified at her own behavior toward total strangers who had done nothing to invoke her wrath; well, nothing save for waking her up at what anyone in Ikebukuro would have considered to be a more than decent hour. The twelve hour time difference had left Ciara utterly exhausted, though, which made the girl far more irritable than she would have been with a decent bit of sleep and a few cups of coffee.

"Ah. Would you happen to know where I can find Maureen-san?" Ciara was distracted for a moment by the man's dreadlocks, only then realizing his hairstyle and not quite registering his heavily accented English.

"Wait. . . why are you looking for Reeny?" Ciara asked as she blinked rapidly and shook her head slightly, as though trying to decide if she was truly awake or not.

"Maureen-san has acquired a few rather sizeable debts. Heiwajima-san" he paused to gesture toward the taller man "would like to speak with her about repayment."

"What exactly does 'sizeable' mean?" Ciara asked slowly, taking a moment to glance at the taller man.

He all but dwarfed the small Canadian girl, towering over her by a good two feet. A cigarette was twirling between the man's fingers as he semi-glared at Ciara behind blue-tinted sunglasses and jaggedly cut blonde hair. His scowl alone was enough to make the girl run under normal circumstances, but his chilling stare and intimidating height made Ciara want to hide under her bed for the rest of eternity.

"Fifty thousand American dollars, I believe." Mister dreadlocks said after a moment, glancing up at Ciara from the calculator he pulled from the pocket of his suit coat.

"What did she need fifty thousand dollars for?" Ciara asked softly, feeling slightly light-headed.

"I really couldn't say, her loan was given through a separate source, Heiwajima-san and myself are simply hear to discuss repayment with Maureen-san. We do have a schedule to keep, so could you please direct me to Maureen-san?" he asked politely, though with a slightly exasperated huff.

"You mean. . . you haven't heard?" Ciara questioned as she leaned against the doorway for support.

"Heard what?" the taller man – Heiwasomething – asked sharply.

"Reeny- Maureen" Ciara corrected herself "she. . . she died. Three days ago."

"I see." dreadlocks-guy said slowly "Please pardon me, I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Tanaka Tom, and this" he gestured toward the taller man "is my associate, Heiwajima Shizuo."

"Ciara Deirdre-Lynn Kathleen O`Neill." the Canadian girl said with a rather forced smile and a short, polite bow just as Maureen had told her to do.

Before anything further could be discussed, a mocking voice rang out from the street.

"Shizu-chaaaaaaan!~"


	3. Chapter Three: Shizu-chan And Izaya-kun

**A/N**

**Grace: After many hours-**

**Phantom: Two minutes. . .**

**Grace: Of arduous labor and mental struggle-**

**Phantom: You fell asleep. . .**

**Grace: I have finally, FINALLY-**

**Phantom: It's only been a week. . .**

**Grace: Figured out an update schedule for this fic!**

**Phantom: *cricket noises***

**Grace: Wow. . . tough crowd. T_T**

**Phantom: Yeah. Gracie-chan is attempting to explain that this story will be updated – hopefully without fail – every Monday. Not at any particular time, but probably toward the evening EST. If she doesn't manage to update by sometime Monday evening EST, I will personally thwack her with a yardstick, because I have more yardsticks than I know what to do with.**

**Grace: Yes! Minus the yard-stick-thwaking stuff. . . nobody loves me. . . T_T**

**Phantom: Very true, but I am loved! *sparkles***

**Grace: In case any of you guys are writers as well, I feel I should warn you. . . giving your Beta attention is a very dangerous thing. It would seem that Phantom-chan has turned into a Twilight vampire. . .**

**Phantom: *rolls eyes* You're just jealous. Anyway, let's roll the chapter before anyone goes comatose from overexposure to **_**you**_**, dearest authoress.**

**Grace: T_T**

_**[DISCLAIMER: If I owned Durarara!, ShizuoXCelty would be cannon. Given Shinra's persistence, I clearly do not own it.]**_

**Chapter Three: Shizu-chan And Izaya-kun**

"Izaya-kuuuuuuun."

Ciara shuddered at the dangerous drawl from Shizuo – Shizu-chan? – as the blonde man leapt over the railing – from a third story apartment – and hit the sidewalk without so much as a flinch. Dreadlocks-san (_Tom _Ciara's mind supplied) sighed heavily and shook his head, not even bothering to watch the spectacle unfolding below. Unable to reign in her curiosity, Ciara inched closer to the railing until she found herself peering over the edge, teetering slightly as she attempted to balance her small form on the cold metal.

Shizuo was shouting angrily at the other man – Izaya. . . kun? – in Japanese, leaving Ciara puzzling over what he could possibly be so enraged about. Perhaps it was the nickname? Not even _Maureen_ had been that steamed over her own respective nickname (Reeny), and she had loathed that title with every bit of anger she possessed – which, admittedly, wasn't very much. The other man was grinning widely, looking entirely too relaxed as Shizuo grabbed the nearest object – a lamppost – and shouted what Ciara guessed to be profanities, but the foreign words all sounded alike to the Canadian girl; for all she knew, Shizuo could have been complementing the other man for his (fuzzy and warm-looking) jacket.

The fight that ensued both puzzled and captivated Ciara.

Neither man seemed to be surprised at the other's unusual feats – to put it mildly. It certainly wasn't every day that Ciara witnessed someone try to beat up another wielding a lamppost, stop sign, and ATM machine. She had also never seen someone leap fifty feet in the air simply by ricocheting off of several buildings in quick succession, and she nearly slipped from her rather precarious perch on the railing when the fuzzy-jacket-man balanced perfectly on the thin surface beside her.

"Tanaka-san." jacket-man greeted Dreadlocks-san – _Tom _Ciara's mind shouted – with a brief nod before turning toward the red-haired girl.

Ciara noticed that, up close, jacket-man had sharp features and an amused sort of half-smile as he regarded her with scrutinizing brown eyes. It made the Canadian girl horribly uncomfortable to be stared at with such intensity, especially since she could have sworn that jacket-man's eyes were tinted ever so slightly red. What disturbed Ciara further was that jacket-man didn't seem to blink in however long he stared at her – it certainly _felt _like an incredibly uncomfortable and one-sidedly awkward eternity.

A rage-filled roar was the only warning before a large blue postal box came flying from the ground, thrown by a _very _angry Shizu-chan. Jacket-man leapt effortlessly out of the way as the metal object crashed into the railing where he'd been a split-second earlier, but Ciara was not quite so lucky. The poor girl was rather well known for her reflexes – or lack thereof – and had barely managed to let out a startled shriek and several choice swears before she was careening toward the unforgiving concrete below. The Canadian girl squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for the painful, possibly deadly collision.

One muffled _thump_ and a strangely soft landing later, Ciara found herself marveling over how incredibly soft concrete was, and warm. Actually, if she didn't know better, Ciara would have thought that she'd landed on a. . . person.

The jumbled stream of angry Japanese confirmed that Ciara had, in fact, landed on a person; an angry one at that.

"Sorry about that. . ." Ciara mumbled, slowly opening her eyes to see Shizuo's furious expression.

"Look, Shizu-chan! It's raining Americans!" jacket-man chirped at he landed effortlessly beside Ciara, grin widening as the girl squeaked and scrambled back.

"I'm Canadian!" Ciara protested as she managed to get to her feet, only to fall to the concrete one more when Shizuo loomed over her and began shouting once more.

Unsure of what to do in such an odd situation, the Canadian girl curled herself into a ball and thought about happy things such as hockey, maple syrup, and beavers. Just as Ciara's thoughts began to drift toward tobogganing and moose, she felt herself being lifted into the air. A strangled sort of cry spilled from her mouth as she stared at the pavement a good seven feet away. It appeared that jacket-man had said _something _to further enrage Shizuo, which resulted in the blonde man wielding the nearest object as a weapon. The nearest object happened to, unfortunately, be a rather confused and frightened red-headed Canadian girl.

"Shizu-chaaaaaaaaaan!~" jacket-man drawled with a wide grin "You're going to hurt the little _Canadian_!"

'Shizu-chan' stared blankly at jacket-man for several long moments before he tilted his head up and met Ciara's wide-eyed stare. The man blinked twice, cleared his throat almost awkwardly, and set the girl down with surprising care before giving her a short, stiff bow and a few mumbled Japanese words. Before Ciara could react, jacket-man had sneered something that the Canadian girl assumed to be a taunt, and Shizuo was suddenly waving a street sign around like a bat. Jacket-man bolted and Shizuo gave chase, leaving a very befuddled Canadian to stare questioningly at one Tom Tanaka, who had his face buried firmly in his hand.

The whole ordeal left poor Ciara with a single thought running like a mantra through her head.

'_What the _fuck _was that?'_

**A/N**

**Grace: Well, I can't say that I'm thrilled with this chapter, especially because it was all pretty rushed to make my new deadline, courtesy of PhantomPrussia, but ah well.**

**Phantom: Review!~**


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